


Hamilton

by delicatelyglitterywriter



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Crack, F/M, Gen, alternate title: Can America Please Chill Out, could also be titled: Revenge Is A Dish Best Served Musically, this is purely therapeutic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-30
Updated: 2017-09-30
Packaged: 2019-01-07 04:38:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12225909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delicatelyglitterywriter/pseuds/delicatelyglitterywriter
Summary: After being tormented for months on end by the team's unrelenting playing of the 'Hamilton' soundtrack, Fitzsimmons decide that it's time to take matters into their own hands.





	Hamilton

**Author's Note:**

> I just got really angry tonight and needed to write it out. Be nice in the comments, if you do comment.

Jemma found Fitz hiding in the Zephyr, his head buried in his knees. Her heart skipped a beat. He never looked like this unless he was about to, currently experienced, or just coming out of, overload, or if he was incredibly upset. 

“Fitz?” she asks softly, cautiously approaching. “Are you alright?”

Fitz looked up, and she was instantly taken aback by his anger. 

“Fitz?”

“They’re playing bloody  _ Hamilton _ again,” he sighed angrily after a long moment. Jemma let out a sympathetic sigh and sat down next to him, placing a comforting hand on his back and rubbing. 

The team had continuously been playing Hamilton songs anywhere they could, as often as they could after they’d discovered the pair weren’t, and didn’t want to be, interested in it. It had been an attempt to suck them into the epidemic sweeping across the nation.

But, suffice to say, it had backfired. They now weren’t simply not interested; they  _ despised _ it. So, it had turned the motive to trying to rile them up, to make them annoyed.

“They’re just trying to prompt a reaction our of you,” Jemma said in an attempt to console him. Fitz groaned and dropped his head.

“They bloody well succeeded,” he moaned. Suddenly, one of his fists flew out and thumped the floor. Jemma couldn’t help but flinch. But she quickly recovered.

“Oh, Fitz,” she soothed. 

She could fully understand her pain. She’d been suffering in a similar way for close to a month now, and understood that it was absolute torture. She thought that it could prove effective in interrogations, if used in just the right way. 

As this thought passed through her mind, a lightbulb lit up. She gasped, causing Fitz to look up, and then she broke into a grin. She turned to a very confused Fitz.

“Fitz, I have an idea.”

* * *

 

_ The next day…. _

Daisy is jolted awake from an incredibly deep sleep, and she sits up panting. She takes a moment to realise where she is (her bunk) and what time it is (four o’clock in the morning). She then tries to figure out what the source of her arousal is.

Then she hears it. A blasted note from a  _ fucking bagpipe _ .

Daisy gets up and peeks out of her bunk. She turns to her right, and sees that Elena and Mack have stuck their heads out, too. Then she turns to her left and sees Coulson peering out, and there, rounding the corner is Fitz. 

Dressed in a kilt. 

Playing the bagpipes.

At four o’clock in the morning.

And he’s coming right towards them. 

Daisy decides that she’s not putting up with this. She steps in his path and when he gets close enough, she yanks the mouthpiece from his mouth. 

“What the hell, Fitz?” she growls. “It’s four am, go back to bed!”

“Careful, Daisy!” Fitz reprimands, swatting her hands away. “This is expensive! And I’ll have you know that four am is the perfect time to play the bagpipes! Old Scottish tradition, you know.”

“Four o’clock is sleep time,” Daisy growls. “Not playing the f-”

“Language,” Phil warns. “There are young ears here.”

He leans back a little bit so that Daisy can see Piper, Davis, and Prince standing at the corner, their eyes wide. Daisy scowls at Phil, but holds her tongue anyway.

“Go back to bed, Fitz.”

“No,” Fitz deadpanned, causing everyone to come to full attention.

“ _ Excuse _ me?” Daisy asks, her tne dangerous. Fitz stares at her. 

“I said: no,” Fitz repeats calmly. 

“Dammit, Turbo,” Mack says wearily. “Why not? Why won’t you just let us sleep?”

“I think it’s only fair,” Fitz answers. “That since you make me suffer so bloody much with that stupid  _ Hamilton _ thing, that I make  _ you _ suffer with the bagpipes.”

A look of realisation dawns on everyone’s faces, and Daisy groans, turning to trudge back to bed.

“What would Jemma think of you doing this?” Elena tsks, causing Daisy to stop.

“Yeah, Fitz,” she agrees. “You wouldn’t wanna wake up your peacefully sleeping girlfriend.”

Fitz’s lips quirk up. “Joke’s on you. She’s the one who came up with this idea.”

With that, Fitz popped his mouthpiece back in his mouth and marched off down the hallway, still blowing his instrument. Mack, Phil, Prince, Piper and Davis retreated back into their bunks as he walked off. But Elena stopped and glared at Daisy.

“This is all your fault.”

Daisy sighed, but didn’t refute. She  _ had _ been the one who’d first played  _ Hamilton _ for Fitzsimmons. She closed her door, and flopped facedown on her mattress. She’d grovel to Fitzsimmons in the morning.

After she’d gotten some more sleep.


End file.
